


Road Trip

by Kiosk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe-Cold War Thedas, Alternate Universe-Modern Thedas, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Road Trip, Swearing, buddy fic, but not super modern think like 80s ish, redneck dalish elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:22:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8798959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiosk/pseuds/Kiosk
Summary: She hits him with her truck. What happens next will warm your heart!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This AU came to me in a dream.

To be honest, Mahariel isn't exactly watching the road. She's had a rough week, and there's usually nobody out in this area of the Brecilian, even in the height of hunting season. She genuinely believed that is was just her and the werewolves and halla. There aren't actually that many werewolves anymore, but even the idea of them is enough to keep most shems away. 

Not this one apparently. He just simply appears in front of her truck. She slams the brakes, but it's not fast enough. He is launched several feet forward before landing in the middle of the road. 

"Oh, holy Maker," she scrambles out of the front seat. "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry," he stirs, but only slightly. "I can find a phone and call for help-"

"No!" He sits upright. 

"What? I-"

"Don't call the templars."

She can see now that he isn't badly hurt. Thank the creators. "Alright," she agrees, "no templars."

He is visibly relieved. She still feels bad about hitting him with a truck. "Can I at least take you to a convenience store? There's one nearby where you could get some first-aid supplies."

His eyes flick to the truck's rusted hood. He seems to register the splatters of his own blood. "Um, yes- ow," he winces when he tries to get up. "I'll take you up on that."

She helps him into the truck. "So." She awkwardly begins once back in the drivers seat. "My name is Mahariel." 

"Hi," the human says. He is avoiding eye contact. So is Mahariel; this is awkward. She's never hit someone with a truck before. 

After another moment's silence, she prods him a bit more, "What's yours?"

"It's, um, not important."

The radio goes into a fit of static, then clears up again.  _"In other news, we have no new information on the disappearance of Prince Alistair, who is the prime suspect in his father's murder. He hasn't been sighted since-"_

Alex quickly hit the power button to the radio. Mahariel finally removes her eyes from the road to raise one eyebrow at him. "I hate country music," he says a little bit to quickly. 

Fair enough. She, too, could go without another rendition of "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy." Most of this stuff is garbage appropriated from old Dalish music anyway. Still, the new silence is making her even more uncomfortable.

"So," she asks. "What were you running from?"

"Wh- What makes you think I was running from something?" 

"You crossed the road without noticing there was a giant truck right there. And you were running."

He seems to search for an answer for a second, then sighs and admits "I heard a gunshot and it freaked me out."

"Oh." That makes this so much worse. "Sorry. That was probably me." Usually she is the only living person out in these woods. Something occurs to her. "What were you doing all the way out here in the first place?"

"What were _you_  doing all the way out here?"

"Hunting. I live on the commune. Tits, why so fucking defensive?" 

He doesn't answer. Fortunately, she soon pulls into the small gas station. "Alright, I'll go in and get a first aid kit."

She slides out of the truck and leaves him brooding. 

 

When she returns, the human has found a new sense of urgency. He seems to be steeling himself while he finishes wiping the blood from his face. He takes a deep breath. "I need help."

 _Shit_. If he's asking for Mahariel's help, he must be seriously desperate.

"You didn't call for the templars. You don't know me, but you trusted me."

"I'm not a big fan of them myself," she mutters before chancing a split second of eye contact. 

He has a look in his eyes that she's seen before in cornered animals. She mentally kicks herself for looking, because in that moment she understands. He isn't just desperate, he is totally and completely out of options. This is his final mad grasp at survival. 

Mahariel rests her head against the steering wheel. "I should have just kept driving." She takes a few seconds. "I'm going to hate myself for this, but what do you need me to help with?" _Fuck me for being a good person_. 

 "I'm trying to get to the border." 

"Orlais?" That makes no sense. "Buddy, you were going in the exact fucking opposite direction. Also, aren't we about to go into war with Orlais? Again?"

"Yes, that happens to be part of my problem. But first, I need to get out of Ferelden."

Fleeing the country and sees a war with Orlais as a personal issue? 

"Who the hell are you?" she asks.  _Please don't actually answer that._

"Alistair Theirin."

_Shit. He answered that._


End file.
